


standing, lost and looking

by deartheworld



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Extremis, Insecure Tony Stark, M/M, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Slow Burn, Tony Stark-centric, nor is this compliant with any movie after that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deartheworld/pseuds/deartheworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is still dealing with the aftermath of the Battle of New York when Steve Rogers shows up at the Tower, which is fine albeit a little confusing. Slowly but surely, Tony is getting his old team back with the bonus of a new enemy out to get him. But like he said, it's fine, he's fine, he's dealing with it.</p><p>And then there are the bombings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello, this has been edited. I have finally sat down to fully go through my ideas for this story. This was originally going to be more of a character study than anything and it'll still be Tony-centric, but my overall plans have veered off of my previous projection. I have updated the tags and summary so for all those who have already read this, thank you for reading and sorry for changing things on you. Please look at the tags again to see if this story would be your thing.
> 
> This is (very) loosely compliant all the way up to Avengers: Age of Ultron.

“What is wrong with you?” is a phrase he’s used to hearing from Howard.

It’s often said, accompanied by an annoyed sigh, when he finds Tony staring out the large windows of the second-floor library, nothing on the table in front of him. He says it with more anger when he finds him ignoring everyone at the different galas Tony is forced to go to, and sitting on the floor in a secluded corner of the ballroom just like a petulant, pathetic, little boy. Again, with slurred syllables after a hard, frustrating day at Stark Industries as a rhetorical question, a precursor to a rant in which Howard will tell Tony exactly what’s wrong with him.

When he was younger, Tony used to think it was his fault. His entire childhood marred by the all-consuming thought of not being good enough for his father. If only he was better, things might have been different, things might have been happier. Better, even.

But now, after years of trying and trying harder, Tony understands that this isn’t something he can change. That no matter how many awards he wins, no matter how many blueprints and circuit boards he creates, it doesn’t matter. It was never a question of his worth, of whether or not he’s good enough.

Everyone knows the answer to that already.

The answer is no.

(The answer will always be no.)

*

It’s only when he leaves for MIT, into the world just bordering on Howard’s shadow, does he really understand it. People orbit him but they don’t really see him. He’s just a placeholder, soon to be obsolete. Anyone would do; after all, no one really needs Tony, they just need the Stark. And if not Stark, then Stone, Fujikawa, Hammer, there’s a whole list of people really. In the grand scale of things, he’s a mere speck amidst trillions of other clusters.

His parts are greater than his whole.

He’s okay with that.

Mostly because he can’t find it in him to be anything else.

*

Sometimes he finds it in him to fight.

And thank God for those moments. He needs them to keep SI alive and on the right track. Any weakness and he might as well giftwrap the entire Tower for the board of directors, furnishings included. Realistically, he knows that most of them aren’t actually terrible people, but there are more than enough people who require caution and care. One wrong word, one slip, and they can easily turn the tide on him and bring weapon manufacturing back to the table. That’s something he’s not willing to risk, even if the government is even more overtly fed up with him. Even if there are people criticizing him for leaving their soldiers behind with inadequate weaponry, for leaving them to die overseas, for leaving them period, it’s okay. He’s okay.

He dealt with the same thing when he was making weapons, except it was protests saying that he needed to be stopped, that he liked killing too much to stop, as though he liked the thought of blood on his hands. It’s fine. He’s used to it.

He can deal with it.

(You can’t please everyone but God, does he try.)

*

It’s been a few weeks since the Battle of New York, and everyone is still picking up the pieces both figuratively and literally.

Thor is gone, probably dealing with the aftermath of the Tessaract’s presence on Earth: Loki and the Asgardian court, maybe even an intergalactic court. Tony muses about the possibilities of it one dark, slow, sleepless night.

Tony’s seen Clint a few times in the streets with the various cleanup crews. He figures that greeting him would bring unwanted attention so he keeps silent about it.

He hasn’t seen Natasha but he doesn’t really look too hard either. She’ll show up when she wants to be seen.

Bruce _was_ in the Tower for a night after the team’s shawarma dinner, but disappeared sometime between Tony conking out on his workbench and waking up on his workshop bed with a blanket tucked around him. Tony can’t decide whether to be hurt about the abrupt departure, touched that Bruce cared enough to bring him to bed, or embarrassed that he was tucked into bed like a small child. Any and all three of those reactions seem like too much work for him. Still, he’s thinking on it.

Captain America himself isn’t in New York, not that Tony is keeping tabs on him. It’d just be pretty obvious if the star-spangled man himself was helping out with cleanup. Tony’s surprised that Cap isn’t helping out though; it seems like a Cap thing to do. Whatever, Tony doesn’t really spend a lot of time thinking about it, him. He has enough going on in his mind.

Tony barely talks to anyone but JARVIS and his bots. Pepper tries to talk to him but whenever he sees her, he tries to avoid the conversation that he knows is fast approaching by ranting instead about the city cleanup. He explains the necessary repairs for his suit and other features he’s wanted to include. He talks about the possibility of the Maria Stark Foundation setting up a new shelter in New York for those who have lost their homes to the battle and for those who have always been in need for a home, a safe space. He talks about his own home, his plans for the renovation and which contractor he wants to do certain parts of it. He talks about the funding for the city’s constructions and Pepper, do you think I can just pay for all that out of my pocket so they can get off their asses and get it _done?_

Pepper gets everything in motion and breaks up with him at the end of the week.

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” she tells him. She might even be looking at him but Tony would have to be looking at her to know.

“But?” He prompts, resolutely keeping his eyes on the Iron Man gauntlet he’s been fiddling around with in the past hour.

“But,” Pepper sighs and Tony doesn’t know how but he feels even worse hearing it. “Tony, would you please look at me?”

“I’m good where I am, thanks,” he mumbles.

“Tony,” she says, and he was never really good at denying her no matter how much of a fuss he might make.

He looks up and continues to raise his gaze until he’s staring steadily at the space just above her head.

There’s another, smaller sigh from her but she seems to understand that this is the best she’s going to get in this situation because Pepper continues, “I just don’t think this is working. _We’re_ not working, at least not romantically, and it’s absolutely not because of you or me. Sometimes people can love each other and not be good for each other.”

“You’re good for me!” Tony says, his eyes snapping down to look at her in the eye. “How could you even say that? Pep, you’re one of the best things that have ever happened to me.”

Pepper steps forward and lays her hand on his shoulder with a small smile on her face. “I know, Tony, and I could say the same about you. But the thing is, I really think we work better as just friends. It’s not because you were a terrible partner because you weren’t, you really weren’t Tony, so get that thought out of your head right now.”

He throws off her hand and she takes a step back. He misses her touch already. “Then why?”

“We don’t know how to compromise with each other Tony,” she replies softly, eyes suspiciously bright, “and that – that’s dangerous. Not knowing how to do that with the important parts of our lives? That’s only going to make us resent, if not each other, then ourselves, the situation, our lives in general. Tony,” Pepper pauses, drawing in a shaky breath, “I don’t think I can ever handle hating you.”

“I can learn how to compromise,” he says pleadingly, hands reaching out to clasp hers to bring her back to him. “I can change Pep, I swear.”

Pepper shakes her head. “I doubt that,” she says not unkindly. She smiles at him, a soft, gentle thing. “You have the tendency of giving your all to the people you love.”

Tony pulls back, dropping her hands. “What, and that’s a bad thing now?” Tony asks lacking the bite he usually employs.

“Yes and no,” Pepper replies. “It’s admirable how much you care for others, and I love that about you. But I think that you forget sometimes that there’s someone here,” she lays a hand tenderly on his arc reactor, “that needs that love just as badly.”

*

Pepper’s back in Malibu and Tony doesn’t think he can go back there to her, not yet at least. Maybe never. It doesn’t really matter where he is though. It’s not going to change the fact that he’s alone.

Sure, he’s brought the bots along with him and they’re always excited enough to see him, but it’s not the same. Even he knows that he can’t just stay in his workshop forever with only his bots for company.

So there he is: over 50 floors in his Tower, 5 entire floors all for him and he’s staring down at everyone walking the streets of New York. His left hand is pressed against the window, right hand absently tapping out a rhythm on the reactor as he wonders what it’d be like to actually touch and feel connected, to belong with the people he wants to be with, to not have to try so hard to be one of them, normal.

“Blackout, J.”

He turns away.

*

His phone is ringing.

Tony can hear it and he knows he should pick up. It’s been two days; someone’s probably worried about the stocks.

“Sir, Miss Potts is on the phone.”

He shifts in bed, tugs the blanket a little bit higher on his shoulder.

“Sir?”

His eyes close.

*

His to-do list is steadily growing, three items coming in for every item he sends out. He can feel the pressure weighing in on him from everywhere and he’s trying, he is, but his best just doesn’t feel good enough, fast enough.  

JARVIS shuts down everything in the workshop once Tony hits the three-day mark of no sleep and mediocre food intake. Usually this would be the time where Tony argues with him, insists on doing _something_ so he can put some sort of dent on his workload. This time, Tony can’t find it in him to even care. To bed he goes, flopping down on his stomach and falling, falling, falling –

He jerks awake, arms struggling with the sheets as he tries to pull free of them and into a seated position.

“The date is June 15 and it is 3:41am. The city’s rebuilding is approximately 65% finished. SI stocks have gone up 2.6%.”

He raises a hand to his reactor and takes a shaky breath, holds it, exhales.

The bed is cold without Pepper.

“J? Raise the temperature a bit alright?”

“Certainly, sir. Might I suggest trying to get some more rest? Your first meeting of the day isn’t until 10:30.”

Tony raises his other hand to the top of his head and grips his head, knees coming up until they hit his forehead.

“Sir?”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Tony murmurs. He sits there for a few more minutes though before straightening out and getting out of bed. “Start up the workshop for me, will you J? That includes the coffee machine. I’m just gonna wash my face before I go down.”

“Very well, sir.” There’s a slight hint of dissatisfaction in JARVIS’s reply, but Tony knows that there’s no way of him going to sleep again any time soon.

It’s fine though: he got his four hours of sleep, the coffee’s going, and he’s meeting with Hsu to discuss the upcoming projects for the new prosthetics line today. It’s good.

He can do this.

*

“Sir, Miss Potts is on the line.”

“I said we were on Blackout, JARVIS,” Tony says, shoving the table in frustration when he comes across another incomprehensible tangle of code. “What the actual fuck was I on when I was doing this?”

“I’m afraid she is insisting,” JARVIS says, apologetically. “As for the mess you are currently looking at, sir, I do believe you were on two days of no sleep.”

“There are no exceptions to Blackout,” Tony snaps, “and I’m pretty sure I already told you this.”

There’s a brief silence before JARVIS replies, dissatisfaction barely heard in his voice.

“Of course, sir. You now have 20 voicemails from Miss Potts and 5 voicemails from Lt. Colonel Rhodes. Would you like to reply to any of them?”

Tony leans back and slumps in his chair. “Tell them I’m working. Looking after the company’s best interests and whatnot.”

“And yourself, sir?”

“Myself, what JARVIS?”

“Who is looking after your best interests?”

Tony tenses up, ready for a confrontation. But this – he can’t – no it’s, it’s JARVIS. JARVIS is safe. But then again, Stane was supposed to be safe and look at where that got him. It’s different though because Tony knows, deep down to his very soul, that if there’s one thing he can count on in this entire world, it’ll be JARVIS. So Tony consciously drops his shoulders down and back, and takes a deep breath. Relaxes.

“Well, I guess that all depends on what my best interests are,” Tony replies, carefully casual, “and who’d be determining that.”

There’s no answer from JARVIS, but really, Tony doesn’t blame him because sometimes you reach a point in which you realize that it’s probably time to cut your losses. Plus, whatever JARVIS says about him – well, he’s clearly biased. Besides, Tony has already been skeptical of what people say about him; it’s the only way you survive in the spotlight. Some things are harder to ignore though.

Tony sighs and sits up straight again, hands already reaching out to scroll through the interface for more coding errors.

Whatever.

He has work to do.

*

Eventually, the news racket over the Avengers dies down especially with the city’s reconstruction wrapping up. Everything goes back to normal mostly. There’s an uptick in SI stocks, accompanied by a surge of positive reviews over the new StarkTab, complete with all the features that everyone wants (and will continue to want) more of in their electronics: extended battery life, lighter weight, and more processing speed. It’s a challenge each time Tony has to design the newest upgrade, but it’s part of his business fallback routine now. If it’s not the StarkTab that’s getting the revamp, then it’s the StarkConnect. Nice and predictable.

It’s helpful for those times when he can’t sit down and concentrate, when he can’t grab hold of one thought and keep it, follow it until fruition. It doesn’t happen too often, but often enough that Tony worries about SI products when he can. His R&D department is good, great even, but he feels better when he can go through everything himself, whether it’s a final cursory check or an entire re-design. He has control issues, he’s aware of this. He knows just how detrimental it can be to the company especially during those times when he sits in his chair and monitors his employees’ progress as they work. It’s unnerving, he gets it but for some reason, he can’t stop doing it. Ever since he became Iron Man though, he’s gotten pretty good at giving his employees some space to work. He hasn’t, however, learned how to battle his unproductive moments. There are still times when he’ll spend forever in bed because he can’t concentrate, can’t wrap his head around the fact that there’s still work to be done. There are days in which he’ll stare up at the ceiling and wonder about all the things he’s supposed to do with the time he has left, and whether they’re even worth getting out of bed for.

Today, though, it’s one of those days.

Tony’s still in bed, despite the fact that the sun had just gone down again. He’d been working on prosthetic designs as part of a new line that he and Pepper can pitch to the board of directors. That had been a while ago though and now, there’s a StarkTab lost somewhere in his sheets if he could muster up the effort to go looking for it.

His phone beeps again, signaling another voicemail left in his inbox. That’s eight already and the day hasn’t even ended yet. Plus, there’ll be the voicemails left from before as well. Tony releases a small groan at the thought of all the calls he’s going to have to go through and all the work that’s going to leave him with. He hits his head back but seeing as how he’s on his bed, it doesn’t do much other than bounce once, twice. At once, he regrets it, the movement of his head causing his lingering migraine to flare up again. Tony grimaces, pressing his fingers to his temples, massaging gently. He hasn’t been able to sleep properly for a while now. He rolls to his side, kicking out his legs in a poor attempt to feel more comfortable. It doesn’t work.

“Sir?”

Tony sighs, contemplating but coming to the conclusion that it wouldn’t do to ignore JARVIS.

“Yeah, J, what’s up?”

“Captain Rogers is approaching the Tower entrance.”

Tony rolls onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling in confusion. Steve Rogers headed to the Tower? S.H.I.E.L.D would have made more sense, unless he already stopped by there, unless he was already there in the first place. But then, why would he have left them to go to the Tower? Although they had left on better terms, he and Steve aren’t exactly _friends_. There’s no reason for Steve to seek Tony out when a mere phone call probably would have been enough. Tony fidgets. There’s no point in trying to figure this out. He doesn’t have all the variables and plus, it’s not like he doesn’t have the space. If Tony were being honest, the rooms have already been decorated since the Tower finished its full renovation, waiting for occupants.

“Let him in, J,” Tony decides, rolling back onto his side. “Show him up to the room, you know the one. Give him the spiel yeah?”

“Will you not be greeting him yourself, sir?”

“Nah,” Tony says, settling in. He pulls the duvet up a little more until it practically covers the lower half of his face. “Some other time.”

*

When Tony wakes up next, he forces himself out of bed and into the shower. He makes the water as hot as he can stand it, and stays there under the shower head for a good five minutes before going about cleaning himself. His initial intention was to get in and out without wasting time, but he ends up prolonging the cleaning process, taking his time. By the time Tony leaves the shower, it’s already been half an hour since he left bed. The worry that he was missing last night hits him all at once now, leaving him uneasy about Steve’s presence in the Tower.

“Shit!”

So preoccupied with his thoughts, Tony doesn’t even realize that he reached his bed, instead only noticing it when he stubs his foot on the edge of his bedframe. He loses his grip on his towel and stumbles, catching himself just in time on the bedpost.

“Sir, if I may?”

Tony sighs, picking up his shirt in both hands. “Might as well, J,” he says.

“Captain Rogers is currently in the kitchen four floors down. He has been there for the past two hours. I do believe he is waiting for you, sir.”

“For me?” Tony asks, briefly pausing before reaching for his pants next. “What for?”

“Perhaps to thank you for allowing him to stay in the Tower?” JARVIS suggests, sarcasm quite noticeable in his voice.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Well in that case,” he drawls, smoothing out the lines in his clothes, “I better get on my way shouldn’t I?”

Tony goes through different greetings in his head, immediately dismissing some and revising others. He shouldn’t be feeling this worried over meeting someone. For God’s sake, they’ve already met, they fought beside each other, hell, they fought each other! Sure it was with words but that doesn’t change the potential of hurting someone. Going through their past encounters doesn’t keep the nerves at bay and before Tony knows it, he’s tapping out the rhythm of the beginning chords to “Back to Black” on the outer edges of his reactor.

It’s fine. He’s used to turning the rational into irrational concerns; he knows what to do in these situations.

When the elevator stops on the main floor, he’s ready.

“And look at what the tide brought in,” Tony says, smile almost too wide for his face. Steve’s head snaps up, clearly not expecting him. He spreads his arms wide to encompass all that is before them. “Bet you weren’t expecting all of this from the big ugly tower, were you Cap?”

Steve stands, automatically falling into parade rest. “Stark.”

Tony rolls his eyes, dropping his arms heavily. “Quit the posturing, big guy. I told you, it’s Tony, and it’s really not going to hurt you to say it.”

“I – right,” Steve says, visibly stopping himself from saying anything more.

Tony casts a quick glance upwards in exasperation. “Alright then,” he says, striding past the captain to get to the coffee maker in the next room over. “Did JARVIS show you around?” He asks, making a note to raise his voice to let it carry over into the other room.

“Yes. He was very helpful, Tony,” comes the reply. Steve’s voice is much closer than Tony thought it would be and he barely manages to restrain the jump that accompanied the spike in his heart rate. Tony turns around, intent on glaring the supersoldier out but instead finds himself face-to-face, or rather face-to-chest, with Steve himself and all words leave him.

“Tony?” Steve asks, head tilted curiously.

He’s been staring, hasn’t he?

“Whatever,” Tony mutters, refusing to feel embarrassed. “Coffee, Rogers?” He asks, turning back to the coffee machine. Steve stops him with a hand on his arm and when Tony looks back, eyebrow cocked up in a questioning manner, Steve drops his hand immediately.

“Sorry, I just – you should call me Steve,” he says, using his other hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Right,” Tony says, drawing out the vowel and squinting a little at the supersoldier, whose shoulders are starting to curl inwards. “Ok. Steve.” He gets a small smile from that and Tony feels an irrational spark of pride that _he_ was the one to stop that inward curl.

(Tony knows how that feels – the want to curl in on yourself and make yourself small, small enough until no one notices you, until no one can hurt you. If he can stop other people from feeling like that, then what the hell, he’s going to do his damn best to keep doing that.)

“So. Offer still stands. Coffee?”

“Yes,” Steve says, “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony has to consciously stop his own shoulders from doing its own curl, upwards and in, instead reminding himself: shoulders down and back, head tall, chin up, Starks aren’t small men.

“It’s just coffee. No need to make it a big deal,” Tony says, turning around to busy himself with the coffee machine. Perfect excuse to not look at Steve.

Steve, however, doesn’t seem to get the memo as he moves to lean against the countertop, leaving him forever in Tony’s peripheral vision.

“That’s surprising. I never thought you would think of it as ‘just coffee,’ Steve teases, or at least, he tries to. His tone is too hesitant, still testing the waters. Tony’ll give it to him though. He smiles, albeit a bit strained at Steve, who, thank God, doesn’t notice or doesn’t know the difference.

“Whatever, Cap.”

Cap is still okay right? Still acceptable? God, Tony doesn’t know why it’s so important to do well in this situation. It’s just a conversation with his childhood hero, he’s fine.

“Well, this is going to have to spring up eventually so don’t get all huffy and offended at me for asking it now,” Tony warns, “but what are you doing here anyway?”

There’s a moment of silence and Tony does about everything he can to stop himself from turning to fully look at Steve. Keeping it casual, he reminds himself. But from what he can see, Steve is rubbing the back of his neck, looking as though he’s trying to figure out the answer to Tony’s question as well.

“Just wanted to check up on you, I guess,” is the reply.

Tony pauses for a moment, caught off-guard. “Oh,” he says. That was – he wasn’t expecting that. He turns away to the cupboard, hoping to hide the expression on his face. “Well,” Tony continues, “here I am. Alive and kicking. You can stand down now, Cap.”

“Alright. As long as you’re okay.”

Tony’s not quite sure as to how he’s supposed to answer in the face of that naked sincerity. They fall back into silence. It’s not awkward per se, but Tony can’t help feeling the tiniest bit uncomfortable. After all, why was Steve still here? There were other places to wait for the coffee to be finished. Tony’s left hand creeps up, starting a rhythm of indecision on his reactor.

“Is it hurting you?”

Before Tony can stop himself, he turns to look at Steve who’s looking at his reactor with an expression Tony can’t discern. Tony’s hand slides upward to hide the light of the reactor, almost unconsciously. With the reactor covered, Steve looks up, into Tony’s eyes, and grimaces.

“Sorry, I just – I remember it, after the battle and I-” Steve’s eyes flicker downwards. “Does it hurt?” He asks tentatively, voice soft.

Tony stares at Steve.

Steve, noticing Tony’s lack of reaction, hurriedly tries to backtrack. “I mean, you don’t have to say anything,” he says, reaching out to touch Tony’s arm. Steve stops before he can make contact though, quickly retracting his hand. “I just wondered, you know? Not that you have to answer or anything. I mean, you’re entitled to your own privacy and I don’t – it wasn’t my intention to – to pry or –”

“Steve.”

Steve stops talking, eyes wide. It’s a bit endearing, actually, but Tony doesn’t dwell too long on that observation.

“It’s okay, Cap,” Tony says with a tiny shrug of his shoulders, “You’re curious, I get it. Breathe a little, will ya?”

Steve’s shoulders drop. “Right,” he says, “I just – sorry. It kind of just came out.”

Tony thinks about it for a moment before he decides to just do it. He reaches out to pat Steve on the arm, keeping contact a second longer than he intended to, distracted by the warmth he feels.

“I said, it was okay. Don’t worry about it.”

There’s a glint in Steve’s eyes that says that no, he’s not going to let this be. So Tony does what he does best. He diverts attention.

“Hey, coffee’s finished. How do you like yours?”

“I – what? Tony, no, don’t ch-”

“Options, Cap. The future is full of them. Here,” Tony pours the coffee into the two mugs he retrieved from the cupboard, “why don’t you go explore what you like in your coffee then? Have you tried French vanilla? Hazelnut? Are you a sweets sort of person?”

Steve frowns, a hand reaching out, probably to grab hold of Tony’s arm to get his full attention.

“Tony, I-”

Tony dodges subtly, depositing a mug into the outstretched hand instead.

“There you go,” he says, pretending to not hear Steve. “Knock yourself out.”

He speed-walks away, though he’s sure to keep it as subtle as he can, clutching his own mug in the wake of Steve’s confusion before anymore can be said. Tony’s pretty sure Steve calls after him but that’s unimportant. He needs to get out of here.

Tony doesn’t answer the question.

*

Tony doesn’t see Steve again for a while, despite welcoming him to move in permanently. Not that Tony is actively avoiding him. He has the annual shareholders’ meeting and its preparation preoccupying him for a few days. Then he’s rushing off to Malibu’s R&D department to listen to the required proposals for the prosthetics division. After scrapping many and approving a few, Tony flies back to New York for the groundbreaking ceremony of the next arc reactor-powered Tower.

When he gets back to his own Tower, Steve is waiting for him in the kitchen but Tony bypasses him without a second glance, making a beeline for the couch. He remembers crashing without even taking off his shoes, but when Tony wakes up, he’s in bed, tucked in like a goddamn child. Tony refuses to think further into it and forces himself into the workshop to expand on the preliminary blueprints he accepted in Malibu. He doesn’t even get an afternoon’s worth of work done before Pepper is calling him about the VistaCorp scandal, the first call they’ve had since she left New York.

“I honestly don’t see the problem, Pep-Pepper.”

There’s a scrunch in Pepper’s eyebrows brought on by what Tony recognizes as stress combined with irritation. She probably isn’t that invested in the VistaCorp scandal either, but what matters is that the public and the Board of Directors are.

“Look, the StarkSecure system is the top of the line,” Tony continues, “and it’s operating well ahead of VistaCorp’s systems-”

“That’s not the problem, Tony,” Pepper interrupts.

Tony waves a hand at her, motioning for her to lay out her concerns. He sets down his blowtorch and turns his chair to face the screen fully.

“I know how much work you put into StarkSecure, believe me,” Pepper says, “but people are starting to get antsy with the WHiH interview with Scott Lang. The Board’s panicking over the fact that Lang had supposedly stolen from VistaCorp despite them being a security systems company, and they’re worried about what that might mean for Stark Industries.”

Tony scoffs, reclining back in his chair. “You mean, they’re worried about themselves,” he says.

Pepper sighs and nods, massaging her temples. “Not to mention the arising suspicion of VistaCorp.”

“Really?” Tony asks, glancing down from where he was staring at the ceiling. “What have you been hearing on the grapevine, Ms. Potts?”

“That VistaCorp was hiding something,” she replies, her mouth set at the worried angle Tony has rarely seen. “No one seems to know exactly what, but there have been a lot of whispers going around Malibu.”

“About what?”

“Just – I know everyone jokes about corrupt businesses,” Pepper says, “but apparently this goes beyond that. I just don’t know how; Rachel wouldn’t tell me anymore.”

Well then.

Tony sits back up, running a hand over his mouth. He’s all too familiar with corrupt business practices and their consequences.

“Ok,” he says as he spins in a slow circle. When Tony’s facing the screen again, he claps his hands together. “Here’s the deal, Pepper. Call up a meeting with the board and I’ll fly down again, see what I can do.”

The relief of Pepper’s face would be satisfying if it didn’t make him miss being with her even more.

“Really? That would be great, Tony, thank you,” she says, smiling gratefully. “Though I do have to ask, what do you have planned?”

“Well,” Tony drawls, “it’s all about transparency these days right? That’s what the public is displeased about in the VistaCorp scandal. That press conference was just soundbites.”

Pepper raises her eyebrows. “You watched the conference?”

Tony snorts, turning to rummage through the many papers on the table beside him.

“Please, Ms. Potts,” he says, letting out a small “aha!” upon finding his desired notes, “you wound me.” When he turns back to Pepper, she has a fond smile on her face.

“Anyway,” Tony says, ignoring the small twinge in his chest upon seeing it, “throwing around the word ‘transparency’ gets real old, real fast. So I’m proposing to make the changelogs a bit more accessible, easier to find, easier to understand, that sort of thing. Plus, StarkSecure is due for an upgrade anyway.”

“That works,” Pepper says, nodding. “The upgrade should appease the Board and once the upgrade is done, we can release a press conference to announce it as well as our plans for prosthetics with AccuTech. How long do you think it’ll take for the upgrade?”

Tony holds up his notes. “I’ve got the plans here,” he says, “I can lay down the foundation before sending it off to R&D.”

“Alright, and I received your approved blueprints as well. I’ve taken the liberty to compile them into a briefing packet for the Board. Can you walk them through those as well when you arrive?” Pepper asks, glancing briefly off-camera.

Malibu is three hours behind New York. Tony leans back in his chair to see his clock. It’s 6:24 pm, and knowing Pepper, she probably hasn’t had time for lunch yet.

“Tony?”

He rights himself up. “Yeah, I can do that. Coding for the upgrade shouldn’t take more than two, three days if I can start now,” he says. “Take a break and eat your lunch, Ms. Potts.”

They make eye contact and she laughs. “How did you know Cynthia just bought me lunch?”

Tony shrugs. “Unimportant. Eat.”

Pepper is smiling when she hangs up. Tony drops his head, elbows on his knees. It hurts and makes him happy at the same time to have seen it.

*

Unsurprisingly, the Board is satisfied with Tony’s proposal for StarkSecure. The blueprints from his prosthetics division, however, lead to some arguments and dissatisfaction.

“Quite frankly, the numbers just don’t convince me,” Frank Chrest says, shaking his head at the graph still projected on the screen. “Now, don’t get me wrong Charles, they’re nice ideas and I believe that AccuTech will do a wonderful job on these but I just don’t think they’re going to look that great on our quarterly report.”

Charles Healey glances at Tony surreptitiously before replying. “Well Frank, if you can recall, our previous prosthetic devices have seen some financial success and-”

“Yes, but that was the Haz-Tek suit,” Frank interrupts, leaning forward in his chair, “and I’m sorry to say, but that was much more impressive than what I’m seeing here.”

“Just because these devices don’t have applications beyond the medical field doesn’t mean that it’s not just as impressive,” Marisa Tan says, frowning at Frank.

“That’s not quite what he said, dear,” Arash Rahimi says, patting the table in front of him.

Marisa turns the frown towards Arash and she’s not the only one. Tony can see the indignation on Marisa’s face at being called ‘dear’ but he also notices the hesitation to speak up about it. Making a mental note to talk to Marisa and to send Arash to a session with Shirley Chang, Tony sits forward in his chair and flips open the briefing packet set in front of him to the proposed list of AccuTech-Stark products.

“Yes, Tony?” Pepper says, sounding slightly relieved, catching the attention of those around the table.

“I just wanted to ask,” Tony says, “Frank, what aren’t you pleased with regarding these proposals?”

Seeing the slightly panicked look the other man gives him, Tony is quick to add, “Not that there’s a problem with you not liking these. But if you tell us why, Charles and I can clarify some things for you. And if that doesn’t work out,” Tony shrugs, palms open, “it’s back to the drawing board for AccuTech and SI.”

“Well,” Frank says, glancing around the table, “I just – there’s not much of a market for these compared to-”

“Compared to the Haz-Tek Suit?” Tony asks, cutting the other man off. Upon seeing Frank nod along with other members at the table, Tony sighs and leans back in his chair. He shares a quick glance with Pepper but re-focuses his attention towards Frank, careful to keep his expression from veering towards the exasperation he’s feeling.

“Frank,” Tony says, “the Haz-Tek suit is an exoskeleton, and while it does have industrial uses as well as medical, what AccuTech and SI are trying to do here with this new line is to go beyond that. We’re trying to provide devices for those whose needs aren’t met with the suit.”

“But why can’t we just base the new line off of the Haz-Tek suit? Surely that would cut down on costs if we can mass-manufacture these parts,” chimes Joanna Murphy, tapping her finger nails contemplatively on the tabletop.

Tony inwardly sighs, the exasperation getting stronger as his weariness insists on making its existence known.

“It’s an exoskeleton, Joanna. Some of the individuals we’re trying to help don’t have what’s needed to be properly outfitted. For example – may I have the remote, Klaus? Thank you. Now, if everyone can redirect their attention to the screen,” Tony scrolls backwards until he reaches the slide detailing the prosthetic arm blueprints. “Now, Joanna’s idea of basing the prosthetic devices on the Haz-Tek suit is plausible if we’re providing aid for limb movement. But we’re focusing on a different demographic with these specific ideas. For example, with this arm, we’re looking at helping amputees. Also, as Klaus was saying, we’re trying to move away from the hyper-sensors and nano-hydraul, and get into the neural sensors to make motion smoother and also, to minimize issues associated with the hydraulics of Haz-Tek movement.”

Everyone has turned back to look at him. Most of them look as though they are starting to support the purpose of SI’s direct involvement with these projects.

“Now obviously,” Tony continues, waving a hand, “nothing has been confirmed without your approval but in terms of distribution should we go through with this, Randall Alley has been a good friend so I believe I can convince him to get biodesigns on board. There are also various clinics that we can send a few people from Marketing to discuss our devices. We can also talk to some of the VA clinics. Start off in Thousand Oaks and slowly move throughout the country.”

“And New York?” Pepper asks, fingers crossed in front of her.

Tony gives her one of his best charming smiles. “Well, New York has me so I don’t think there’s too much to worry about.”

The entire boardroom is either smiling or laughing at his comment, but Tony can tell by the nervous energy in the air that not all of them are entirely convinced.

Tony looks around, gaze stopping at Frank who fidgets with his pen and redistributes his weight in the chair. Frank doesn’t look back at him. Tony does sigh now, placing the slideshow remote back on the table with a nod towards Klaus.

“As a matter of funding,” Frank’s shoulders jerk subtly, the motion mirrored by other members of the Board. Tony rolls his eyes inwardly. Typical. “I am willing to pay the initial costs out of my own pocket if that would ease some of the financial worries.”

“Ah, Mr. Stark,” Arash says, a sheepish smile on his face, “You really do know how to smooth things over.”

Tony doesn’t even try to smile back at him, convinced that it would be more of a grimace than anything. It’s a shame; Tony would have liked Arash better, or at least trusted him a bit more, if he weren’t so smarmy.

“Well then,” Pepper cuts in, clearing her throat as she straightens her papers, “is everyone amenable to these designs then?” There’s a chorus of yeses and heads nodding but Pepper’s eyes narrow at everyone. “Very well, but if there are any concerns, do not hesitate to let myself, Tony or Charles know. We want SI to be just as successful as you all do.”

No one objects.

Pepper smiles at them all. “Good,” she says. She turns to Tony and her smile widens. “Mr. Stark, we look forward to seeing you at the press conference at the end of the week.”

*

Tony crashes as soon as he reaches the mansion. When he wakes up, sluggish and with a headache that he’s determined to ignore, he goes back to R&D.

The building is dark and empty when he enters, save for the security desk. Trading greetings and well-wishes with the guard on duty, Tony jogs down the stairs leading to the prosthetics division. The labs here are also empty. Confused, Tony makes a slow circle, looking for a sign of activity. His eye catches the bright, red numbers of the digital clock hanging overhead and he shakes his head, chuckling.

It’s 3:49 in the morning. Of course, no one’s here.

Ignoring the discontent of sleeping away a day, Tony enters the auditory lab, rotating his shoulders as he goes. He laughs as he sees a section of the lab clear of the cluster and mess found on the other desks. A couple of students from RIT/NTID were arriving throughout the week to help apply the data SI was getting from the Minerva Deaf Research Lab up in Alberta and the Kresge Hearing Research Institute over in Michigan. That section is probably for them.

He walks to the back, to his workstation, still covered in miscellaneous notes and tools. Tony casts one last look around before sitting down and diving into his work.

“Oh, Mr. Stark!”

Tony jerks upright, pen veering off the straight line he was just making.

“Shit.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Shaking his head, Tony puts the pen down and looks up to see his Assistant Director, Nina Ahmadi, with Klaus walking towards him. Smiling at both of them, he does a small stretch, wincing at the sound of his spine popping in different places.

“It’s fine Ms. Ahmadi, don’t apologize.” When they get closer, he crosses his hands in front of him on top of the table and leans back comfortably. “How can I help you?”

Nina laughs. “Oh, it’s nothing, Mr. Stark. I was just showing Klaus the new layout of the lab before the audiology students arrive. The setup over at AccuTech is a bit different so we’ve been comparing with each other.”

Tony smiles back at her. “That’s good, we can always use some innovation in here, whether it be in our product design or even in the lab design.”

Klaus smiles at him. “Some of the things you have here are quite amazing, Mr. Stark. Of course, the people are as well.” This gets directed to Nina who smiles shyly back. Tony can feel his eyebrows rise as the two of them look at each other. Thankfully, he composes himself before they look back over to him.

“Well, here at SI, we always strive for the best,” Tony says, standing up. His legs ache at the movement and he quickly glances over at the clock on the opposite wall. The numbers are bright and clear, and he laughs at himself, shaking his head ruefully. 7:14am, of course his legs ache.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony redirects his gaze to Nina, who has her head cocked questioningly at him. He gives her one of his winning smiles and it seems to ease her. “I just realized I’ve spent more time hunched over that desk than I probably should have.”

Nina laughs, understanding his meaning immediately. After all, this isn’t the first time she’s found him here.

“Odd hours are practically a requisite for us,” Klaus says, nodding along.

Tony makes a small noise of agreement before gesturing to the desk he was just occupying. “I’ve been working through some of the designs we approved,” he tells Nina. “I’ve got through two and I’m currently working on another, but I might have to leave that one to you.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she says, looking down at her watch. “You have to be in New York tomorrow, don’t you? When’s your flight leaving?”

Tony gives her a careless shrug, despite knowing exactly when he’s supposed to be leaving. His personal itinerary has been carefully kept from public knowledge for the most part over the years, and while he might like Nina, Tony’s still too twitchy from the invasion to be forthcoming with the details of his life to other people.

(Pepper is different and has always been different.)

“It’s my plane,” he says, laughter clear in his voice. “What’s the point of having a plane if it leaves without you?”

Nina and Klaus both laugh along.

“But I do have to go: things to do, people to see, you know the drill,” Tony says, gathering up his belongings. He places what he can in his pockets: his pens and pencils, his phone, small slips of paper on which he’s doodled spontaneous ideas.

“Oh, goodbye then, Mr. Stark,” Nina says, holding out her hand for a firm handshake. “I’ll update you on our progress.”

“Thank you,” Tony says, shaking hands with Klaus next. “I look forward to your work.”

He’s out of the building in less than five minutes, the familiar feeling of restlessness crawling between his shoulder blades down to his legs as he quickens his steps. He has no real motivation to do anything about it and he knows there’s no way he can do anything productive with it. His flight isn’t until tomorrow so when Tony gets into his car, he’s at a loss as to what he should do. He stares blankly at his steering wheel for as long as his restlessness pushes him into driving aimlessly through the roads of Malibu until the stars come out and he is forced to take refuge in his mansion.

*

The flight back to New York is uneventful as Tony sleeps through the entire thing. He is still exhausted when he wakes up, almost stumbling on the air stairs as he disembarks. Tony smiles when he catches sight of Thomas in front of the Audi R-8.

“Hey boss,” Thomas greets amicably, “How was the flight back?”

“Thomas,” Tony says gravely. He pauses for two seconds before cracking a smile and clapping Thomas on the arm. “You, sir, are a sight for sore eyes.”

Thomas laughs. “Are you sure you’re talking about me, sir, and not the car?”

Tony slides a hand across the hood of the car as he walks over to the passenger seat. If Thomas is surprised that Tony has decided to not drive, he doesn’t show it. “Can’t I be glad to see you both?” Tony asks innocently, getting in the car.

Thomas is still chuckling when he gets in the car as well. “Of course, sir, but don’t let Happy hear that.”

Tony dismisses the suggestion with a hand. “Mr. Hogan gets to drive Ms. Potts around Malibu. I’d say you’re both at a tie.”

“Fair enough,” Thomas says, starting up the car.

“Oh!” Tony sits straight up, looking around the car. “There’s no spare suit here right?”

“Uh no, sir. My apologies, I wasn’t aware you-”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Tony says, cutting Thomas off with a shake of his head. “It wasn’t decided beforehand and I already freshened up in the plane, but it’d be nice to change out of this thing.” He tugs at the wrinkled suit ruefully. Tony has made it a point to look impeccable every time he’s scheduled to make a public appearance especially if it’s on behalf of SI.

Thomas drives for a bit in silence before speaking up again. “Well, sir, the venue is just a few blocks away from the Tower so we can always stop by there if traffic isn’t horrendous.”

“You mean, more so than usual?” Tony asks, laughing. “But yes, let’s do that.”

They drive for a while longer and while the typical New York traffic is usually enough to have Tony tearing at his hair literally, he keeps it calm, knowing that there’s a difference between artfully disheveled and plain messy. They’re making good time though so Thomas does stop at the underground parking at the Tower, Tony giving him a quick “Back in five!” before ducking out the door and rushing into his obscured personal elevator. When the doors open next, Tony is already moving, tugging off his tie and shrugging out of his suit jacket.

“Tony!”

He freezes, arms halfway out of his jacket sleeves. Tony turns and catches sight of Steve sitting in the living room. Steve sets aside something – a sketchbook or notebook, Tony thinks but he’s too far to actually see – and stands up. He brushes off his pants as he maneuvers around the couch.

“Tony,” he repeats, “Hi.”

Tony slowly finishes taking off the jacket, draping it over his right arm. He smiles at Steve but it’s strained, he knows that. Thankfully, he can play it off as just being tired and busy.

“Hey Cap, just stopping by to get my press face on. What’s up?”

“Oh,” Steve says, looking surprised. “Right, sorry. I just thought I’d catch you before the conference but if you’re busy-”

“How about afterwards Cap?” Tony asks. He glances at the clock hanging just above Steve’s head. “I got to get back to Thomas before we get hit with more traffic, but we can always talk later. That is, if you’re sticking around?”

“Yes,” Steve says firmly, nodding his head. “I’m sticking around.”

Tony does a double-take, unprepared for the decisiveness in Steve’s voice. “I – right. Ok, you do that. I’ll just – I’m gonna go.” He inches away from Steve, further down the hallway leading to the suites.

“Alright. I – good luck out there, Tony. You’ll do great.”

“Ok,” Tony says, drawing out the vowel and not quite hiding the confusion in his voice. “Thanks, Cap.”

Tony turns around fully and walks away, careful to keep his steps measured and calm until he’s out of sight. Entering his bedroom, Tony takes a quick second to appraise the suits in his closet before choosing one of his favourite burgundy suits with a white dress shirt and a simple, black tie.

“JARVIS?”

“Here, sir,” comes the reply.

Tony smiles, shoulders losing some of its tension at the sound of his AI’s voice. “Can you let Thomas know I’m almost done? I should be back in a minute or two.”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS says.

“Great,” Tony says, smoothing down his dress shirt. “And let Ms. Potts know we made the pit stop, will you?”

“Indeed.”

After adding the finishing touches to his outfit, Tony stops by the full-length mirror to appraise himself. Deeming himself up to par, he grabs his phone from where he placed it on the dresser earlier to make a phone down to Thomas.

“Hey Thomas,” Tony says, exiting the room, “I just finished. I’m on my way down.”

“Alright boss,” Thomas replies. “Traffic’s about the same so we should be able to get there on time if we leave in the next minute or so.”

Tony pauses on his way out, catching sight of Steve still in the living room. Steve doesn’t seem to have noticed him approaching; he’s bent over something that Tony can’t quite make out at this angle, most likely it’s what he was preoccupied with earlier. Looking at him, Tony is struck with the urge to do something about that slump in Steve’s shoulders. He’s not entirely sure what but Steve is – he deserves to be happy. Everyone deserves to be happy but Steve who’s been placed 70 years into the future, who has lost practically everything he used to have, who is stubborn and judging on bad days yet still one of the kindest, strongest person Tony knows.  Steve who is resilient and confusing and –

“Boss?”

“What?” Tony asks, realizing his mistake too late when Steve’s head goes up at the sound of his voice and turns around to catch Tony’s gaze on him. Tony refuses to be flustered about it. He fights down the blush (he`s not that successful at it but still, it’s the thought that counts) and instead gives Steve a nod of acknowledgement? Solidarity? God, he doesn’t even know.

“You checked out for a moment there, boss. Is everything okay?” Thomas asks, concern clear in his voice.

Tony looks away from Steve, well aware of the heat still in his cheeks, and resumes his path to the elevator. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m headed down right now.”

The ride down in the elevator is as fast as ever, which Tony is always grateful for, but he’s even more so now. There’s no time for him to brood on what the hell just happened. Instead, he heads straight towards the car as soon as the elevator doors open.

“Alright, Tom,” Tony says as soon as he gets himself buckled in, this time in the backseat. “Let’s do this.”


	2. IIa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel terrible for taking so long to post this chapter but as time went on, I got more determined to post a complete, full chapter to make the wait worth it. I instead hit a couple of roadblocks and for the life of me, I can't figure out how to write through them. The second chapter was approx. 9,000 words and counting but I figured I should give you what I have for now so I split the chapter into two parts. Please stay patient with me! More is to come; I am not giving up on this story.

The press conference goes as smoothly as Tony could have hoped for.

There were some reporters with legitimate questions, questions that Tony appreciated. They needed to be asked; transparency right? Then, there were the hecklers, reporters trying to get him to trip up so they can rip into him later and civilians protesting against the sheer image that Tony portrays.

(It’s fine, he spent a lot of time cultivating that image. He’s fine. It doesn’t bother him.)

But Tony should have known better than to hope that everything would go smoothly today.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you once again for coming,” Tony says, smiling as he surveys the crowd. “I hope that you will join Stark Industries in their journey into the orthotics and prosthetics field, and that our plans for improving the StarkSecure have put your worries at ease. If you stick with us, you’ll see – everybody, get down!”

He’s moving before his brain can even register it, his shout of warning automatic upon sight of a beam of light in the distance. He ducks behind the podium, activating his new Colantotte bracelets.

“ETA two minutes, sir,” JARVIS says from his earpiece.

Tony doesn’t respond. There’s screaming and heat. Sand is blowing in his face. It’s in his mouth, gritty and plentiful. It’s hard to breathe. Tony runs his hands over his head and grips at the hair at the back, trying to remember how to breathe. The heat is unbearable.

“Sir!”

Tony snaps out of it, rolling away from his previous spot before he even knows what he’s doing. He pauses at the sight of the podium, rapidly melting in front of him. Well. That would explain the heat.

“What the-”

“Stark!”

Tony chances a look up, catching sight of a partial yellow and black suit of armour. The goggles make it hard to discern the person controlling it, but the voice, even as distorted as it is, there’s still something familiar about it. Something he’s heard before, but sadly, male voices are a dozen a dime in business.

“Stark, today’s the day everyone will see Iron Man rendered obsolete! _My_ technology is the next generation in offensive weapons!”

Tony rolls out of the way as a beam is directed towards him.

“JARVIS!”

“The suit has been deployed already, sir!”

“That’s great, J, but not helping!” Tony shouts, pushing a bystander out of the path of a stray beam, barely avoiding it himself. He grabs the nearest object to him, a chair, and throws it as hard as he can in the direction of the armour. He’s not armoured himself though, or super-powered for that matter, so the chair soars in a promising arc before dropping down just under the armour’s boots. It does recapture the full attention of the man piloting the armour; he turns fully to face Tony and then lands in a mockery of Tony’s familiar three-point stance.

“How do you like that, Stark?” He asks, walking slowly, most likely to intimidate him. Instead, Tony presses the advantage presented to him, mind whirring as he takes in what’s left of his surroundings.

“Sir, the suit is fast approaching.”

“Everyone’s going to know that you’re old news, Stark.” The armour is getting closer, and an arm is pointed at him, a small glow getting worryingly brighter.

“Right,” Tony says, arms coming up in the universal “don’t shoot” pose. “Because you’re here now, right?”

“That’s right,” he replies. “With the technology of my Melter suit, I’m going to show everyone how useless your Iron Man tech is, and how there are other brighter, smarter minds out there. You’re not the only one who’s smart, Stark.”

Tony can see the Iron Man armour approaching in the background; now he just needs to somehow distract whoever’s in the armour long enough to get the suit to recognize the Colantotte bracelets and form around him. There’s a lot of ‘if’s and ‘maybe’s in his plan.

Well, you never know if you don’t try.

Before Tony even moves (to do what, he’s not exactly sure; he’s still working on it), there’s a clang and Melter stumbles forward. A red, white, and blue blur goes flying up and over, and is caught by a familiar face.

“Stand down.”

Melter turns around to face the newcomer and hell, Tony knows an opportunity when he sees one even when he’s surprised beyond belief to see Steve Rogers, thankfully suited up in a uniform that actually looks as though it could take some hits.

“Sir, I have taken the liberty of informing Captain Rogers of your incoming suit.”

“You know what to do, J,” Tony says. He spares a moment to make eye contact with Steve as he sneaks off to the side and barely catches the small nod of acknowledgement. He raises an eyebrow back before focusing on the fast-approaching sarcophagus of the Mark VIII, while keeping an eye on the Melter. As soon as the armour is in distance, Tony spreads his arms as inconspicuously as he can to allow for the identification, wishing he designed the process to be faster.

“Well well well, is it true then?” Melter spreads his arms wide and takes a step forward. “Captain America is back from the past?”

Steve ignores him. “Stand down,” he repeats.

“Oh I don’t think so.”

The suit is folding around him as Tony watches Steve duck and roll out of the way of a blast from Melter.

“C’mon, faster,” Tony says, fingers twitching in his gauntlet as the armour finishes forming. He still has to wait for the suit to connect to the arc reactor’s power though. “C’mon,” Tony repeats when the faceplate goes down, cutting off his view momentarily from the battle occurring in front of him. Tony curses the bad timing when he hears the familiar clangs of metal on metal.

“Shit.”

His HUD finally appears and Tony hurriedly dismisses the forming screens in order to observe the battle.

The Melter still hasn’t noticed him (which, really? Talk about bad survival instincts) and Tony can’t immediately see Steve.

“Damn it,” Tony mutters.

“Come out, Captain!” The Melter shouts, taking a step forward. He shoots a beam at a heap of chairs, which had been overturned by the fleeing crowd of reporters and civilians. Curses can be heard from the armour as the chairs disintegrate to show that Steve wasn’t hiding behind them. The Melter turns, Tony shifting with him to stay out of sight. “You can’t hide forever!”

Tony sees the shield before it makes contact, Steve popping out from behind one of the structural pillars of the pavilion to make a seemingly impossible throw. The Melter curses, turning towards Steve after recovering from their stumble and pointing a closed fist towards him.

“Steve!” Tony says and flies over, hoping to reach Steve before the beam that the Melter is undoubtedly charging up hits him. He gets a hold of Steve and goes upward before making his hold more secure.

“Iron Man! What are you doing?” Steve asks, frowning.

Tony stares at him from behind his faceplate. “What am _I_ doing?” Tony asks back incredulously.

A clang sounds out and Tony automatically looks down. The Melter’s right gauntlet has been knocked off and whoever’s piloting the armour is hunched over their right arm. Tony glances around and spots Captain America’s shield wobbling on the ground before coming to a rest.

He puts two and two together. “Oh,” he says, “The rebound.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Mind putting me down, Iron Man?”

“Right.”

Tony lands next to the shield, subconsciously pushing Steve behind him. Surprisingly, there’s no protest from Steve who promptly picks up his shield and shifts into a defensive position.

“Right, one gauntlet down and we’re going to need to disarm the other one before we can bring him in. Question is, where do we bring him in?”

Tony shifts, calculating the distance between the Melter and his gauntlet and the speed in which they’d have to move to get there. “No idea Cap, but let’s worry about disarming him first yeah?”

It’s easier said than done.

The Melter recovers with a snarl of rage, shooting a beam at them at a speed faster than what they were facing before. Tony pushes Steve down before flying up and over, aiming his repulsors one after another at the left gauntlet. His attacks are dodged, but the Melter is so preoccupied with dodging the repulsor beams, he takes his eyes off Steve, who immediately takes the opportunity to knock the Melter back with his shield.

 _Sloppy_ , Tony thinks before landing. He opens up a small compartment in his left leg and pulls out a tight coil of rope before pressing lightly against the compartment to shut it again.

“Really?” Steve shoots him a bemused look from where he’s recovering his shield.

Tony ignores him and walks up to where the Melter is hunched over, groaning in pain. “Never hurts to be prepared; I thought you would have known this, Boy Scout.”

“I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to have something as simple as rope,” Steve replies easily with a small smirk on his face. “What, no electronic handcuffs?”

Tony rolls his eyes from behind his faceplate. He’s distracted enough that the Melter’s next move is unexpected.

The Melter rolls away from his position, shooting a fast beam at Tony. Tony barely dodges, dropping the rope in his shock, and shoots both repulsors in retaliation, missing the chest but managing to knock the helmet askew. A face is briefly revealed before the Melter powers up his boots, launching into the air to hover.

Tony looks up, HUD zooming in to run facial recognition. “Give it up!” He shouts. “It’s over!”

The Melter laughs in return. “It is, Iron Man, _for you!_ ”

“Iron Man!”

Tony hears Steve’s yell just before he’s hit from behind and his HUD flickers before going dark.

*

There’s a few seconds wait before his systems reboot. Aside from the light of his HUD, everything is still pitch black. Tony feels his heart jump as panic starts to rear its head.

“Oh fuck,” Tony says, breath caught in his throat. He can barely breathe, fueling his panic as it grows heavier and heavier in his chest. “ _Fuck._ ”

“S-ir, are y-ou alright?” JARVIS comes in, voice crackling with static before smoothing out as the light from the HUD finally stops flickering.

“JARVIS? What – what happened?” Tony asks, trying to push back against the weight on his back.

JARVIS immediately replies, a hint of panic and concern in his voice. “Sir, I would highly recommend against moving. The Melter has collapsed the building behind you before fleeing the scene, and its ruin brought down the buildings beside it as well.”

“Oh,” Tony breathes out, “so that’s what’s sitting on top of me right now.”

“Correct, sir. I have directed first responders as well as Captain Rogers to the ideal locations in which excavation would prove to be fruitful. Any wrong move, sir, and it may cause the rubble currently sitting on top of you to move precariously, thereby reducing your chances of survival.”

“Wonderful,” Tony says, groaning through his teeth. “Any idea as to when they’ll get to me, J?”

“I have alerted them of your current state, sir. They should reach you in the next two minutes.” JARVIS pauses for a moment before adding, “Captain Rogers seems most frantic about reaching you.”

“Does he?” Tony grits out, fidgeting inside his suit. “File that thought for later, will you? Let’s focus on getting me out of here.”

“Of course sir,” is the swift reply. So swift in fact, Tony kind of wonders why JARVIS brought it up in the first place. “They are close to uncovering you. It shouldn’t take more than a minute now.”

Tony doesn’t bother replying, instead he focuses on keeping his breaths deep and even. Soon enough, a patch of sunlight comes shining through and he directs his gaze towards it, watching as it gradually gets bigger.

“Tony! Are you alright?”

Tony smiles, a small thing, to himself. “I’ll be better once you get me out of here, Cap,” he calls back.

“We’re almost there! Just don’t move!”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Move? While I’m in here? Please Cap,” he drawls, “I’m having the time of my life, I wouldn’t move for anything in the world.”

When the rubble is finally cleared, Tony sees groups of people clearing away the mess of both the destroyed buildings and the pavilion. There’s a news van off to the distance, camera panning to take in the full wreckage. Police have sectioned off the area with several of them conversing with the civilians congregated behind the line, some of them trying to peer over the barriers and the officers to get a glimpse of the aftermath. In the middle of it all is Steve, dirt smeared over his cheek and the remnants of his worry still visible in his posture.

“Hey, Tony,” he says, eyes running over him to do a quick check.

Tony rolls his eyes again; doing an eyes-only injury check on a man in a suit of armour is terribly ineffective but instead of pointing that out to Steve, he says, “That is the last time I ever do one of these outdoor conferences again.”

Steve’s lips quirk up on one side and Tony takes it as a weak attempt at a smile (maybe even a laugh, who knows? Stranger things have happened).

“C’mon.” Steve extends a hand out to him.

With a groan, Tony accepts the hand and gets pulled up, all the while discreetly admiring the way Steve’s muscles work under the uniform in order for him to actually move the armour.

(What? Tony can appreciate human beauty and Steve is the pinnacle of human perfection. At least, he’s supposed to be.)

“Are you alright?” Steve asks again, once Tony’s upright.

Tony lifts the faceplate as he waves a gauntlet in the air, dislodging Steve’s hand. “Right as rain, Cap.” He hesitates for a moment before extending his hand to clasp Steve by the shoulder. “Thanks for the assist, Rogers.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“I said before, you should call me Steve.”

“Right,” Tony says and is promptly distracted by the fact that he’s still holding onto Steve’s hand. He quickly lets go and takes a step back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Steve’s answering smile is small but warm like the first ray of sunlight on a winter’s day. “Ok,” he says. He hesitates for a split second before asking, “What happens now?”

Tony looks at him, really looks, and sees the barely-there lost look in Steve’s eyes. “It’s back home for us, soldier.”

*

Pepper is waiting for him when they get back to the Tower.

“Tony!”

“Whoa there,” Tony says automatically, arms coming up to catch her. He stumbles back a few steps before finding his footing, having already disassembled his armour.

“I saw the news,” she says, drawing back, eyes drifting up and down his body. “You’re not hurt?”

Tony smiles. “I’m fine Pepper.”

Pepper narrows her eyes at him. “You were buried under rubble, Tony,” she says.

“Yeah but Steve got me out okay.” Tony cuts her off before she can gain any traction.

Steve steps closer at the mention of him. “The medics checked him over, Ms. Potts. He’s been cleared,” Steve assures her, “he just needs some rest and Tony assured me that he’ll take it easy once we got to the Tower.”

Pepper’s eyebrows go straight up at that. She turns to Tony, incredulity clear on her face. Tony scowls at her.

“What?” He asks, crossing his arms across his chest. “I know how to take care of myself.”

Her expression doesn’t change but Steve’s does. Faced with two disbelieving looks, Tony throws his arms in the air.

“Unbelievers, the two of you.”

Steve huffs out an incredulous laugh. “You forget, Tony, I’ve been living at the Tower for almost a month now. While I’ll admit that you’re not as bad as some people would believe, there’s definitely room for improvement.”

Tony silently entertains the increasing likeliness of him rolling his eyes out of his head. “Unbelievers,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Also, we can’t all embody human perfection, Boy Scout,” he says, poking a finger into Steve’s firm chest.

Steve’s brow draws down together. “That’s not – I’m not–”

Pepper sighs and grips Steve’s elbow with her right hand. “Don’t pay him any attention, Captain. He’s not aware of what he says half the time.”

“Rude!” Tony exclaims, brushing past them to finally enter his floor. He turns to face them, walking backwards. “You two can use the visitor’s entrance. I’m locking this door behind me.”

Steve glances at Pepper but she just rolls her eyes and tugs him along. “Like I said, Captain, pay him no attention.”

He smiles at her. “Call me Steve, please.”

“Pepper,” she offers back with a grin.

They follow Tony inside, who’s already rummaging through his fridge. Pepper lets go of Steve’s arm and situates herself on the wide couch in front of the TV, curling her legs under her.

“So how did everyone take the villain shooting at me at the press conference?” Tony asks, head still buried in the fridge.

“I thought you were taking it easy Tony,” Pepper calls back, head turned towards him.

Steve backs up until he’s on the edge of the room, glancing back and forth between Pepper and Tony, observing them. Tony spares him a quick look as he closes his refrigerator door, turning to face Pepper.

“Pepper,” he says, hands fisted at his hip. “I’m trying to – can you just let me do my job?” She raises both eyebrows at him again. “I – I can feel your judgement from here. Honestly, it’s uncalled for. I am insulted that you would question my passion for PR and the effects it can have on my company and its image. I – I can’t even believe the words coming out of my mouth right now.”

Pepper’s lips are two thin lines pressed together in a failing attempt to not laugh and Tony basks in that joy of making her smile, making her laugh. They look at each other for a moment, fondness clear in their gaze. A snort knocks him out of the moment and Tony turns, startled, to stare at Steve who’s currently laughing behind his hand.

“Sorry,” Steve says, a bit mortified at letting his amusement slip through his control. He waves his other hand in the air, trying to dismiss their attention. “Oh gosh, I’m so – sorry, don’t mind me.”

Irrationally, Tony hates him a bit for ruining their moment.

“Nonsense Steve,” Pepper says, shaking herself indiscernibly. Tony glances back at her and she gives him a small, sly smile. “It _was_ amusing.”

“Rude,” Tony mutters again, turning away. He grips at the countertop with one hand, ignoring the conversation going on between Pepper and Steve. _Get a grip, Tony_ , he tells himself. It’s over, him and Pepper are over and there’s no going back. Only forward.


End file.
